


Confessions of a Q

by PencilGuardian



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilGuardian/pseuds/PencilGuardian





	Confessions of a Q

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pensnest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensnest/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Qualicative Assessment](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/768) by pensnest. 



_"And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known_

_(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)_

_Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time_

_Just controls their operations..."_

\--T.S. Eliot

 

The humans have a concept stating that determining the measure of one certain property requires disturbing the precise measure of another certain property; there are some physical values that they simply cannot simultaneously and accurately define, either due to the method of measurement, or to the nature of the system. As maddening as this theory would be to the scientific pedants among them, I have observed that it rarely disturbs them in practice.

As insubstantial as I am in my natural form, I know when even one quark of my being is misplaced. But for humans, what does it matter if half the particles in one's physical matter suddenly change position, or if one emerges from the transporter beam with nanomoles of atoms missing? So long as the basic properties remain the same, they hardly notice. They experience the universe in approximate terms, through a heavy, water-logged shell that translates everything into electrical impulses. In order to make those impulses known outside their own heads, they must re-translate into arbitrary noises to which they have assigned layers of vague meaning that differ minutely from mind to mind. The more complex the biological system is, the more it muddies perception.

In fact, the human mind is quite possibly one of the least useful forms in which to try and gather useful information, particularly on the subject of humans themselves, which is why, for my studies, I have only rarely assumed human form.

My goal--my assignment, frankly--was to observe without affecting. To be on-site, but ignored, allowing events to unfold without interference, but missing nothing. In my natural form, this would never have been possible. When incorporeal, there is simply too much to experience. Who can limit their observations to the minutiae of a single star ship when there are planets to burn and stars to birth, dimensions to fold and time lines to make? Omniscience comes at a high price, and for me it is distractibility. To complete my mission, I needed to have tunnel vision, and also to make myself utterly removed from the events at hand. At the same time, I needed a form that would be consistently logical, and maintain a constant presence among the humans without significantly impacting their universe.

I think I chose well. Felines have had a presence among humans since the dawn of civilization, but generally without the cultural impact of the canine. (It remains my sworn testimony that the Ancient Egyptians came to revere the creatures _entirely_ without my prodding. Likewise, I still swear that if I ever did happen to cross paths with one Dr. Erwin Shroedinger, it was accidental and without significance.) After all, cats are secretive animals with a reputation for independence, and I always strive for accuracy and authenticity in my disguises.

Of all the forms I have taken over the eons, this one has become my favorite. One forgets the joy of simplicity. It was surpassing delightful to forget the larger goings-on in the universe in favor of a quick hunt down alleyways and corridors. To learn the workings of my new body and memorize its shape during long moments of tongue-bathing instead of through cursory glances at higher energy frequencies, many of which were almost within my reach. I'd never before taken the time to appreciate the subtleties of scent and sound, to play in the abundant small details of corporeal existence.

Though, it is frankly impossible to cram a mind as vast as mine into one so small and purposefully shaped as the one I chose, and to abandon those faculties was terrifying at first. But it became just as satisfying to calculate a climb up a gnarled tree as it had been to watch the behavior of gravitons. And it was far more satisfying to plot the capture and kill of sundry small animals than it was to try and grasp the reasons behind a declaration of war.

Humans! From my perspective, I saw much of their mundanity while most others observed only their occasional flashes of grandeur. I admit I may have become swept up in their everyday adventures and I may have pushed my mission objectives to the back of my mind in favor of simpler pleasures, while the humans learned to see beyond their macroscopic world, and began to play with the deadly, untamed fire of the quantum universe. I feared to think that there might be no more trees to climb, or small animals to hunt, or hands to stroke my fur. I admit that no matter what one's shape, one cannot unbecome what they really are, and so yes, I did compromise my mission, but only minutely.

I did not create the human known as Gary Seven, and if he assumed me to be one of those who did, it was his own idea and I did nothing to confirm or deny it. My discovery of him was sheer happenstance, and I accompanied Gary Seven as an observer, only. The feline form is one in which aloofness and inscrutability are often inferred. Expected, even. But in the end, I suppose I had become spoiled. It was not that I was fond of humans. In keeping with the tendencies of my disguise, I had little concern for them beyond their capacity to satisfy my own simple wants. But I had grown accustomed to a way of life that I thought was worth preserving. I compromised my cover, yes.  After so long around humans and their limited thinking, I suppose I was unprepared for Gary's expanded mental perception, and I certainly had not expected to encounter a Vulcan from 300 years in the future. But in my quiet way, I ensured that Gary was successful in keeping mankind from prematurely blotting itself out of existence. My kind have made entire universes cease to exist. I merely ensured that I continued to have a warm lap to curl up in. Is that such a capital offense?

Still, it is difficult to remain in one form for such a long time, particularly when it is so limited, and it is possible that my experience with Gary made my usual level of interaction with humans feel boring by comparison. I still enjoyed the lines, the aesthetics and sounds of the feline type, but my report needed a wider perspective. In my time observing other humanoid species, is it my fault that I could find no other suitable form? Every good experiment needs a control. Was Qo'NoS really so altered by the spontaneous generation of the Grishnar cat, or Bajor by the Hara cat? As to the incident on Nimbus III, well, _someone_ needed to keep tabs on what was happening. I regret that I was unable to stop the interference of the one called Kirk, but the marriage of feline aesthetic to humanoid body was not as effective as I had hoped. But since Kirk successfully refused to free The Imprisoned One, there was no further need for myself or any of us in the Continuum to interfere further.

**

My new partner is a wholly different kind of specimen, and amuses me in his capacity for excess and inefficiency where I am concerned. He dotes on me to the point of becoming a nuisance. I have less freedom here; the Continuum watches this ship quite closely, and it is the favorite plaything of my meddling colleague. But Q is not well acquainted with subtlety, and so again it falls to me to collect an unobtrusive record of mankind's deeds as evidence in the ongoing trial.

It is both amusing and disappointing to note that the humans of this era are no more adept at noticing fine details than their predecessors were. In my boredom, I experimented with different variations on my appearance, and not even my caretaker's positronic systems registered the change. I chose to take that as a compliment on my ability to go unnoticed.

But just as I have begun to grow bored of this form, and of the utilitarian and wholly unstimulating environment aboard this starship, I have sensed the time line ahead, and forsee a need to violate my orders once again.  These particular humans have an almost preternatural gift for getting themselves into trouble, and if the trial is to end in a way favorable to my chosen lifestyle, I will need to act to ensure their continued influence in the universe.  Plus, it will give me a chance to examine that one last aspect of the feline experience that I have, so far, managed to neglect: in all my years as a cat, I have never before attempted to have kittens.

 


End file.
